


Intimate? With MY brother? It's more likely than you think.

by Grubbutts



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, Incest, M/M, Seemingly Unrequited Pining, g rated somno, intimate, sleep touches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-20 22:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17031567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grubbutts/pseuds/Grubbutts
Summary: Dave has a nightmare, so he kisses his brother.





	1. Chapter 1

It's stupid, really. It's not like it's a huge deal, you're not a wuss. You can handle nightmares just fine, it doesn't matter how old you are, you can _handle_ it. 

Well, okay maybe not all the time. 

Tonight it got pretty rough. You gasp as you jolt awake, sitting up with wide fluttering eyes. Your breath is short and practically nonexistent, a terror you can't remember clenching your chest, starving you of air. But then it lets go and you sigh, blinking around your room as your remember your nightmare. 

You wish you didn't. 

Maybe the theory of having a finite number of thoughts in your head is the ideal belief to rely on now. Perhaps if you distract yourself, bad thoughts will get shoved out back into the void where they belong. At least that's what you tell yourself each time, getting out of bed and stumbling your way over to the bathroom for a piss and a drink. Not that those two are related by any means other than location-- you're getting your drink _of water_. Water from the sink. Water in a cup that you fill directly from the sink faucet. 

Anyway, you get your water and drink it down your dry sore throat. You stretch your limbs and quietly slink over to the futon where Bro's fast asleep, lying on his side with the sheets over half his body. The light from his computer is just enough to let you see that he's actually wearing a tank top to sleep for once, though you're not sure if he's wearing nothing underneath. You wouldn't put it past him.

It gets a little easier every time you do this, and he makes it so much easier in that he never talks about it, but you still have to give yourself a little pep talk. "Just climb in Dave, it's fine. The futon's not going to eat you, it'll be fine. Bro's there." 'Bro's there' or some variant of the phrase, is often a reason you end up doing a lot of things, going to certain places. The place right now specifically being Bro's bed. 

You pull the sheet back just a little and slide yourself in next to him, carefully laying your head down on the pillow. It's a little intimidating for him to be facing you like this, but you know he's deep asleep. He normally lets you play whatever you want as loud as you want, especially when you're testing out beats for some grade a song making, so you're not worried about him waking up. Tomorrow you'll wake up alone and he'll be out working or running errands or training, and neither of you will talk about it or acknowledge that you slept next to him. It'll be fine.

He's still facing you though, and his face is handsome so it's a really damn handsome face in your direction and really just face it-- you're in love with him. And his stupid face.

The light on the computer shines over your shoulder and reflects onto his face, bouncing off those cheekbones. Angular and sleek, piercing down into his striking jawline. You can't stop staring at that thing, it's way too cut to be real. With a nice layer of stubble covering it, stubble the spreads onto his cheeks and down his throat. He has a rather prominent Adams apple, and it's unfairly hot anytime he drinks. Watching that thing bounce as he swallows each gulp. Sometimes he spills a little and drops will slide out of the corner of his mouth and down his neck. 

You think he does it on purpose. 

The stubble fades but as you cross his collarbone, chest hair begins to bloom. Brushing along his pecs and diving below his shirt. His chest expands and deflates with each breath he takes, getting closer to you before pulling away. It's hypnotizing to watch. In and out. In and out. 

You wonder what his heartbeat it like right now. Should you... reach out and touch him? No-- no, you can't he's definitely going to wake up. 

Probably not though if you're super careful and light. It's not like anyone's ever accused you of being harsh and confrontational so being super extra light on innocuous sleep touching is probably fine.

You slowly reach out with your hand, and even though you're less than a foot away from the guy it feels like he's miles away. Cue dramatic _Jaws music_ ; will your hand land? Will Bro wake up and kick you onto the floor? Many rhetorical questions that you dumbly answer in your head flutter through your thoughts as your hand gets ever closer to him.

And lands. 

He's warm, is the first thing you notice. Warm and soft. You press your hand lightly against him and you wait. Thump. . . thump thump . . . thump thump. His heart must have skipped a beat, you know yours sure has. Otherwise it's steady, constant, strong. It's a strong beat you can get behind, what is that-- 46-48 bpm? Something impressive like that. You feel his heart beat and watch his face to see if he's going to wake up any time soon.

Oh whoops your hand slips. It seems to be grazing upwards onto his collarbone, following the crease under his skin. It lines down from his shoulder and into the little dip at the base of his throat, and you just ever so slightly dare to look up at that Adam’s apple, following each breath. 

Hot. Damn. 

You don't even realize you're doing it when your hand slides up and along the side of his neck, beginning to feel the prickles of stubble on your fingers while you brush your thumb along the sexy neck bump. 

You can feel his heart beat in that too. 

He swallows and you shoot your hand back, staring at him while he smacks his lips and sighs into his next sleepy breath. Damn that was close. You should probably stop now.

Will you? Absolutely not. 

With careful caution and tentative scooting, you shift yourself closer to Bro and reach out again, returning to the same spot on his neck. His stubble gets pricklier as you move up, cupping his jaw. You move your hand upwards to his cheek, following the curve of his face, lids closed softly, mouth parted with soft hot breaths husking out. It's like seeing a an ocean still after eons of turmoil, unnatural yet, what it's always been. What it should be. He looks nice being this relaxed, you think. He should be relaxed more often. He thinks you can't tell what his eyes look like under his shades but you know. You just wonder what he's so stressed about. 

Your thumb traces the line from nook of his inner eye down his cheek, tracing the bags there. You then follow the sharp point of the tip of his nose, and what the hell you can't help yourself-- you push it up a little, raising a bit of his upper lip.

Hah.

Anyway, you lift your thumb off and brush down onto his lower lip, feeling along the plush skin. He's so soft, and his breath on your fingers makes you shiver. 

You've thought about it thousands of times, kissing him. And you almost have but... you can't. What would he say? He'd hate you, wouldn't he? Things would get awkward around here and you'd probably have to move out on your own and you feel it's just much too soon for that in your life's journey. 

He _is_ asleep though. And he hasn't woken up yet. Besides, what's the difference between a thumb and lips to a sleeping guy? 

Before you've even finished the thought, your hand moves out of the way and you lift yourself up, slowly moving closer and closer. You look to make sure your aim is right before screwing your eyes shut, and carefully carefully oh so carefully press your lips against his like you're drinking scalding coffee. And with equal carefulness you pull back, and gently flop back down into place.

That was awkward and you kind of want to try it again but you think it might be weird now that you made a whole big deal about being careful and suddenly you're going in for two whole kisses like a brazen whore. Look at him, he's just so handsome though. You could stare at him all day, kiss him all day. You reach out and gently cup his cheek again. Man, whoever gets to call this man their husband will be one lucky son of a bitch. You'd give anything for that to be you. Makes you feel nice and warm like the gentle golden amber of his eyes, looking at you. 

Oh.

_He's awake._

You have trouble swallowing from how dry your throat has gotten, and you stare at him with wide eyes, your hand frozen on his cheek. Shit. Shit-- shit how much does he know? How much of it did he feel? Your heart thumps away in your chest like the little bunny rabbit you wish you could be and hop the fuck away from here and this situation and its impending consequences. 

Then he laughs. 

The edges of his mouth curve and you see the glimmer of his teeth as a few hot chuckles pour from his mouth. "Take it easy, lil man," he says, soft as silk, " you're fine." 

You pull your hand back and look away and to the side which happens to be towards the ceiling. You can feel heat rising in your cheeks and flushing your skin, though you hope to god he can't see it. "Sorry," you mumble, "-nightmare." You assume he's talking about the fact that he woke up and that you're here in his bed and totally not the awkward kiss you planted on his lips while he was sleeping. 

"You had a nightmare so the solution was to kiss me?"

While you _thought_ he was sleeping. Son of a fuck, was he awake the whole time?

You whip your head to look at him and the flush deepens, your cheeks are both Mount Vesuvius, exploding with heat. 

He doesn't look mad though; he's still smiling. Which is pretty rare in and of itself. 

"Was wondering when you were gonna do it," is the softest thing you've ever heard come from his mouth which makes you feel, well, soft. 

"What?"

Before you know it, his hand is slinking over your side and up your back, pulling you closer to him. Then his lips are on yours. Just for a second, a small soft smooch before he rests his forehead against yours. 

His breath kind of smells, but it smells like him.

"You're cute."

"Thanks."

"Aren't you gonna say I'm cute too?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Cause you're a puppet succubus, you literally live off fucking puppets."

He snorts a laugh.

You look to the ceiling-side again, "Handsome though..."

He doesn't say anything, only moves his hand up to brush some of your hair your of your face. He tucks some of it behind your ear, and he follows the curve of your lobe before trailing your jaw, lightly gripping onto your chin and pulling you towards his face. "Hey."

"Hm?" You look at him, heart still racing like a little bunny rabbit. 

"You can sleep here, you know."

"I was planning to tonight, though I dunno now if I'll ever be able to sleep again. Not that this is a bad thing I'm just very-"

He flicks your forehead and you shut up because yeah, you deserve that. 

"I mean every night," he says. 

You swallow again, or at least try to, looking away and internally bursting into flames. And maybe... you move closer to him, squishing your hand between your chests, your other hand reaching out to softly grasp at his tank top. "I think that could be nice," you say, which is the most difficult and most satisfying thing you've ever said. 

Because he lifts your head again and gives you another kiss. This one a little long, lingering against you. Feeling the gentle pressure. Then he pulls back and plants another one to your forehead. "I think it'd be nice too," you can feel his voice through his chest as he wraps his arms around you and cuddles you close. 

You too wrap as arm around him, burrowing into his chest and under the crook of his neck, finding your own little slice of paradise next to him. And you can't help it- you beam wildly to yourself. A wide and unabashed grin spreads across your cheeks enough to hurt and you bite your lip. Your rabbit heart has bolted through the building and you're now flying high in the warm heaven that is the intimate burrito of Bro's arms. 

Score. 

"Hey Bro?" You're not sure if he can hear you.

"Mhmm?" Oh, he can. 

"Love you." Not even a mouse could hear that one. 

Yet he huffs a small laugh, giving you a small squeeze, and pressing his lips to your head. 

"Love you too, Davey."


	2. Chapter 2

You slowly rouse from a dreamless sleep, shivering from the cold. Maybe you left the window open again and a breeze came through; you hope no crows came in and wrecked your shit.

But as you awake more, you begin to remember the night before. Fear pierces through your chest and you freeze-- did he leave you again? He's going to be gone and he's going to pretend last night never happened. Or maybe it really didn't and you tricked yourself into believing that it's real. You almost don't want to open your eyes; Schrodinger's Bro.

Though you do anyway, slowly the world lights up around you. A wave of relief washes over you as you remember and sure enough see that Bro tends to shift in his sleep.

He's sprawled out on his back, breathing nice and heavy, and still very much by your side. 

The fact that he chose to stay makes you beam brighter than the sun peaking through the windows, the morning has never felt so good. And yet, still pretty scary. You kind of want to touch him again, but you feel weird enough with the previous night's ventures into the world of G rated somnophilia that you hesitate. But you still go for it.

No one's ever accused you of being normal either. 

You shift over to press your chest against his side, tucking yourself beneath his arm and resting your head on his shoulder. You sling your arm around his waist and smile a little to yourself. He's so soft and warm, his chest rises and falls, and you can feel the muscles he's got. He's so beautiful.

You're so in love with him that it scares you, so you instead focus on your wandering hand climbing up his chest. You rest it on his heart, feeling that same steady strong beat.   
"Yer such a fuckin' romantic," you hear above in a low scratchy voice.   
"I _could_ just jab a big ole' knife in your chest," you grumble. 

He huffs a laugh a hand raises and plops into your hair, giving it the best goddamn hair ruffle of your life. His fingers are so long and his hand is so big. He feels like home. 

"Mhmm," he says, "I definitely believe that despite you being 4 seconds away from purring from some head scratching."

His hand feels too nice, and you definitely would have come up with something funny and clever to say back to him, but again-- his hand feels too nice. "Ngh," is all you manage. 

"Mhmm. Time to get up bromeo," He gives you a kiss on your forehead and leans away so you can sit up. "Make me breakfast."

Of course instead of sitting up, you make the very obvious and correct choice which is to cuddle up closer to him. "Nope."

"Yup."

"Nope."

"Aight," and you are wrongly glad that he didn't say "Yup" again because one moment you're in prime Bro cuddling position, the next you're slung into the cold air into his arms and carried into the kitchen. He places you on the cold counter and leaves you there all alone despite still being just as close. He stands in between your legs at eye level with you. You cross your arms and pout. "Dave."

"Hmph."

"Whaddya want in your omelette," his voice still thick with sleep. 

That makes you perk up a bit, both in fear and in excitement. "Ham and cheese," you say, the perfect pair. He only makes omelettes when there's something serious to talk about, whether it's about the power going out for a little while, about a trip somewhere, about your first sword. 

"Sounds solid," he nods and sleepily blinks at you, pushing off the counter. He opens the fridge and gathers the appropriate supplies, "Might put some jalapenos in mine," he says. He's always been one for a little spice.

You watch him as he prepares breakfast, cracking eggs and stirring with a whisk. It's like a game show in here with so many questions swirling around in your head. He's probably going to break it all off with you, or maybe he's going to propose. 

It's boring to keep thinking about this with so much tension and indecision, not to mention way too early in the morning to be dealing with this kind of shit. He's half dressed, hot, making you breakfast. Regardless of any circumstances, this makes you happy. The sounds of sizzling egg womb juice and the smell of pig inside the liquid egg womb make for a delicious combination that has you drooling when it's finished. 

Bro puts them on two plates along with forks and carries them to the table. He gives you the well-known "follow me" nod and you do so, following him to the table and sitting beside him where he places your plate. You pick up your utensil's and wait a moment, watching Bro form the corner of your eye for any sign of how this is gonna run down.

He casually begins to cut the folded corner of his omelette and gets to eating, just like any other day. Thank god. 

You begin eating as well, and man does Bro make a good omelette. It's always nice and tasty with fluffy eggy goodness that isn't cooked all the way to give it a nice gooey soft texture. It's soft, and it's perfect. 

"So about last night," he says with a mouth full of breakfast.

"Hmph?" You say, with your own mouth full of your own breakfast. 

"You okay with that?" 

"Hm?" You swallow your food and turn to look at him, "What do you mean?"

He continues eating his food but he does give you a good glance or two while he keeps talking, "I mean, do you consent and shit? I don't much care about any kind of moral consequence other than making sure you're good with it."

You tilt your head and look at him like he's grown a second head, "What do you mean? I snuck into your bed and kissed you while you were sleeping. Yeah I'm good with it."

"In ten years, will you be?" He asks, "Just don't want you to hate me, or to screw you up."

You look back down at your plate and cut yourself a nice big piece of your omelette, one with plenty of meet and melted gooey cheese to really savor on. He's right, who knows how you in ten years will feel about this. It feels like such an impossible amount of time in the future. You really don't want to think about it though, it's not like you'd ever blame him-- you're a fuckin' snack. 

So you place your fork down and hop-drag your chair over a few inches, leaning against his side and wrapping an arm around him, "Don't care. I'm good." 

He nods, "I can get behind that," he drops his fork on his plate, "But are you ready for it?" At first you think he's talking about some existential crisis but then you feel yourself being lifted into the air and strong across his lap.

Holy _fuck_ he's strong. 

Bro huffs a laugh in your face, drying your wide open eyes, "Are you prepared for the full force of a loving Bro? I'm make your kokoro go so doki doki for me."

Laughs bubble up through your chest and you can't help the giggles that escape your mouth, "Oh my god, shut up." You clutch onto him and giggle into his chest. 

"Dates, movies, flowers, walks in the park, the whole shebang." He chest bounces a bit against you as he begins to laugh too. 

"Please tell me we're going on a ferris wheel too."

"Obviously, it's where I'm going to give you a promise ring." He laughs in your hair, food forgotten on the table as he wraps his arms around you and holds you rightfully close.

You laugh some more into his chest, holding on while you blush and laugh. He smells good, he smells like last night. "I'm swooning already."

"Oh baby you don't even know the meaning of the word," he laughs and kisses your forehead, brushing your hair back. 

It's nice to hear him like this, unabashed chuckling, and the fact that you caused it makes it all that much more special. You like his voice, the consistent timbre comforting and distinguishable to you. You could spot him out from a mob of voices from a simple "sup".

It's also nice to feel his hand in your hair again, and you close your eyes and lean into it. He follows the way your hair grows, down behind your ear. Calloused fingertips brush back your bangs and down your jaw. You open your eyes again, taking your time to look up at him while he drags his hand down your chest, and places it a little right to the center.

"S'fast."

"M'nervous," you admit. 

"Don't need to be."

"Think you'll be satisfied with me?" It just kind of dribbles out of your mouth like drool.

Bro squints his eyes at you, and his hand feels like it's pressing deep into your skin, like he's trying to physically break in and take your heart. "Of course," he whispers, and it looks like he doesn't realize that he even said that until after the fact. "Of course, Davey," he pulls you up closer and kisses you, "You're the only one who can."

You scoff, "Please don't say something as cheesy as that ever again, that was awful." You push at his chest in mock disgust. 

"Oh yeah?" he leans in, "Seems to be pairing great with all that _whine_."

Your jaw drops and your mouth hangs agape as you slowly turn to look at him. Damn.

"You don't shut your trap in 5 seconds, I'm gonna shove my tongue in there," he cocks an eyebrow at you.

Instinct has you immediately closing your mouth shut, but as you think about it more... You decide to open your mouth a little bit because yes, you won't mind some tongue action but maybe not a whole ass tongue in your whole ass mouth. Though maybe one day. 

"You're cute," he laughs, and then he kisses you.


End file.
